On the Road Again
by MrsBeilschmidt3
Summary: Our favorite trio of troublemakers goes on a road trip to Florida- as Spain says, what could possibly go wrong? (T to be safe, because France.)
1. Romano, and Spain the Sorta Boss

**(A/N: Man, I haven't posted anything in so long! Sorry about that, guys! D: For those of you following** _ **Growing Pains,**_ **just figured I'd let you know I decided to keep it as a one-shot, I thought it might be most powerful that way. (: Anyway, play practice and school- which includes writing a literary analysis of** _ **Magnus Chase and the Sword of Summer,**_ **has made me quite busy of late but tonight I decided to write some more! (: Enjoy- Marie (:**

 **Spain's POV**

So what do three best friends do when they're bored and it's spring break? Go on a road trip of course! Prussia, France and I, were going to leave early tomorrow on a flight to New York City (part of America's place), and drive from there to Orlando. (Still at America's place, lucky guy.)

I stretched happily as I flopped down on my bed after finishing my packing. I had the works- a tiny tube of travel toothpaste, a toothbrush with a cap, all my clothes, and some spending money for gift shops. And I'd have a blessed week of from Romano! Don't get me wrong, I love the kid, but there are times when his smart mouth and attitude _really_ get on my nerves. But he'd be staying with Italy, so that problem was taken care of. Just the week I've been needing- no work, no worries! The only bad thing was that I had to set my alarm to wake up on time for the flight tomorrow.

"I can't believe you're leaving me with Italy, b*****d," Romano griped as I put a small bag (airplane personal item) on the floor by my suitcase. Ah, Romano, ever a ray of sunshine in a bleak world.

"But Roma, he's your little brother and you love him," I point out, getting out some shaving cream and a razor, wanting to look nice for all the stewardesses I'll probably meet tomorrow.

"Yeah, but won't that Potato B*****d be there?" Romano complained, standing beside my reflection in the mirror to keep my attention while I shaved.

"Germany's got his own place, it's usually Italy who goes to his," I observed, finishing up my shaving job and rinsing off my face with a wet cloth. I shave really often, so I don't have to do a lot of work. I applied some aftershave and left the bathroom, Romano following me like a puppy- he'd probably be a Chihuahua, one of those ankle-biting ones.

"Okay, okay… I just can't believe you're leaving me alone for a whole week, jerk!"

I laugh as I set my phone alarm and lay down contentedly in bed. "Romano, you're not a little kid anymore, amigo, you can handle a week without me. Have fun with Italy doing… whatever Italians do in little clusters."

"Little clusters?" Romano snorted. "You're making it sound like _mio fratello_ and I are teenage girls going to the bathroom together to take selfies!"

I laughed at this. "Goodnight, Romano."

"Goodnight, B******d," he said affectionately, closing the door and heading to his own room. I smile; I've taken care of him since he was a little kid, and trust me, he's a lot more bark than bite. I do miss when he was young and cute, though. _Ay caramba,_ how the time flies!

Oh well, tomorrow starts a grand adventure, I remind myself positively as I curl up in bed. What could possibly go wrong on a road trip?

 **Well, of course, lots of things, when it's this bunch! Follow** _ **On the Road Again**_ **to see what happens next!**


	2. Ungodly Hours

France's POV

"Slap him."

"I am not _slapping_ our best friend, Prussia."

"Yeesh, Francis, I didn't say hurt the man, just give him a much-needed slap to wake him up."

I bent down to Spain, who fast asleep on an airport chair, when we had approximately two seconds to get on the plane. Lovingly- no just kidding, more like in frustration- I slapped him in the cheek to get him going.

Spain is a very cheery person, but not in the waking hours. No, really 5 am should not be considered a "waking hour". But today it was more like rush hour. Spain wasn't feeling it, however.

"What was that for, amigo?" he grumbled, rubbing his cheek. "It's still dark out."

"We're at the airport, remember?" Prussia said impatiently. His hair was actually a little messy because he was still tired, and Gilbird, his pet chick, was asleep on his head. I, however, looked fabulous as always. It seems it is always up to France to lead the world in fashion.

"Oh yeah." Spain managed a smile. Suddenly, his energy seemed to return and his eyes lit up. "Oh yeah! On the road again! It's been forever since we had a road trip!" He started doing this little Spanish happy dance until someone behind him in line pushed him with a grouchy, "Move it!"

" _Lo siento, lo siento*!"_ Spain cried out in embarrassment, hands in the air. _"Voy, voy*!"_ We strode onto the plane like the professionals we're not and sat down in one of the aisles, Gilbird (who had been woken up by Spain) chirping along behind us. A beautiful stewardess- I mean a true masterpiece, _trés magnifique*,_ served us coffee. Since you probably know the drill of flying, I won't go through it all, we just slept and it was really boring. If you _don't_ know the drill, you might find out sooner or later….

…."Welcome to New York!" Spain shouted, jolting me awake from a perfectly good sleep. His face was ever cheerful, what happened to being so sleepy earlier? "We just landed!"

"Brilliant deduction, Sherlock," Prussia muttered, running his fingers through his hair. I would say his eyes were bloodshot, but that's hard to tell seeing as he has red eyes. We stood up and stretched- as much as one can stretched in such cramped quarters. I believe we ought to demand that airplanes start being made more roomy and accommodating. Or maybe all the airline workers could go on strike until the manufacturing company fixes things, that's what we do in _la Belle France*._

We looked around in awe at the skyscrapers lining the city. The Statue of Liberty stood tall and proud in New York Harbor, a gift from me to young _Amerique*._ It's no Paris, but I must admit, the American builders must have had some French inspiration, because it looked quite beautiful.

"Hey we can wreak havoc in the Empire State building!" Prussia exclaimed, getting all excited like a little kid. "It'll be like _Elf!"_ Now that sounded fun. After all, what are best friends for if you can't make trouble together?

 **(P.S. Spanish words- "Lo siento" means "I am sorry", "Amigo" means "friend", and "Voy, voy!" means "I'm going, I'm going!" As for the French words, "La Belle France" means "The beautiful France", "Trés Magnifique" means "very beautiful", and "Amerique" means America. (: )**


	3. The Burnt Ones Are NOT Always the Best

Prussia's POV

I woke up in the morning to the smell of burning waffles. "What is going on?" I demanded, coughing amidst a cloud of smoke. I stood up, not really caring that I was naked save my boxers because I was too frantic and kind of tired to think. Gilbird was flying around my awesome head in a panic.

" _Mi amigo,_ they have a waffle maker downstairs!" Spain announced to me, his eyes shining bright as he handed me a plate of some burnt monstrosities flooded with syrup in, well- whatever they call those little holes waffles have in them.

 _Mein Gott!_ "Spain, I know you're a good cook, I've had your churros," I told my friend. "You're not England. So why are the waffles the color of new asphalt?"

Spain blushed and smiled sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. "Well you see, I got really excited and sort of got totally distracted, you see-"

I slapped my forehead. That made sense; Spain's an awesome guy, almost as awesome as the awesome me, but he does tend to get distracted easily- _very_ easily. He and America are, like, the poster children for ADHD. Oh yeah, so is Italy.

"Mon ami, I think I have found the perfect place to rent a car," France announced, walking into the room.

"That is awesome," I told him, still coughing. "Just let me have a shower and get dressed first, okay?"

"What about the waffles I made you?" Spain pouted. The grown man- an older nation than me, I think- literally sounded like he was going to cry.

I banged on one and winced; forget rock, that thing was like titanium steel. Nay, that stuff Thor's hammer is made of! "I'll save them for Canada," I told him, "he might want to use them as hockey pucks."

҉҉҉

A while later we were at a car rental place that was probably the most expensive in all of America. I am not exactly what one might call frugal- in fact, Austria is always complaining that I spend too much- but this was ridiculous. I shot France a "Seriously?" look and was just about to object when I saw something wonderful.

"A 2012 Ford Excursion!" I exclaimed, running to the vehicle with open arms like a parent whose child has just come back from war. Okay, so maybe it wasn't quite that dramatic- just kidding, it totally was. I literally had tears in my awesome eyes. But seriously, this has been my dream vehicle since forever! Eight-person seating, a shiny exterior, hardy and well-built, and just plain awesome! Did my eyes deceive me?

"I'll buy it," I told the assistant showing us around.

France and Spain looked at me in confusion and surprise and I explained myself to the attendant, whose name was Ally. "Look, I know this is a rental place," I sighed, running my fingers through my hair, "but I wouldn't mind giving a pretty girl like you a generous tip." I flashed her my lady-killing smile.

Evidently, Ally was immune to my lady-killing smile. "I do not appreciate dishonesty, sir," she said in a tone flatter than a DMV worker's on a long day. I was just about to come up with a quick save when the manager, a man named Tony, shook my hand.

"Just… how much were you willing to offer, young man?"

…Two bank accounts later, the vehicle was mine.

"How are you going to get that thing back to Berlin?" asked France.

"Don't worry, The Awesome Me always has a plan," I responded reassuringly. _The Awesome Me_ then proceeded to rack _The Awesome Me's_ brain for a plan. Well, I'd think of one later. The Three Musketeers were on the road again!


	4. Hate to Barge In, But

Spain's POV

Every single time we got stuck behind a red light, or another vehicle, France let out a string of profanities that would have turned even the sultriest of sailors tomato red. _"Ay, Dios mio!"_ I exclaimed in response to his latest expression of annoyance. "Take it easy, Francis."

"But that lights been on red for ten minutes at least!" France protested with a frustrated whine.

"France, we've been on the road, like, _two_ minutes," Prussia pointed out, sighing.

On it went for about another fifteen, France- for someone unfathomable reason- at the driver's seat, me on the passenger's side, and Prussia relaxing in the back. "Luckily, I know this bridge," France declared, indicating the one that had just appeared up ahead. "It hasn't gone up once- not once!- since all the times I've been here, and trust me, I've visited this place plenty a time, _mon amis!"_ ("This place" referred to a small town called Goldman outside of NYC.)

Just our luck, the bridge went up.

"So today's not our day," said France sheepishly. "But I'm sure this won't take too long."

Twenty minutes later, we were getting seriously annoyed. _"Verdammt!"_ Prussia growled, scaring Gilbird a little. "What's taking the bridge so long?!"

And just then, off in the distance, we could barely make out a barge chugging its way along at a pace that would make a snail laugh. It was on its way to the bridge.

"I can't even believe it." I laughed so I wouldn't cry.

"Come on, little barge," France murmured pitifully. "You can make it." And slowly, painstaking slowly, it finally did. We cheered like teenagers at a concert, when it finally made it underneath the bridge and on its merry way to whatever its destination was.

" _Excellente!"_ I cried happily. "Now the stupid bridge will finally go up!"

Except it didn't. No, five minutes later and the dumb contraption still showed no sign whatsoever of lifting. "Go," said Prussia, holding his palm out and moving it upward as if he were lifting it. And then I saw it. From the corner of my eye, I glimpsed the watery terror.

Another barge was coming.

҉҉҉

I have always heard that terrible ordeals are God testing one's faith. I must have had the faith of a saint by the time _that_ fiasco was over with, because let me tell you, it was like a little glimpse of hell itself. I think Satan was laughing as he watched his little minions steer their barges underneath our bridge with all the speed of molasses. But thank the Lord, we made it out alive, more or less.

When we finally got moving, it was time to let the true "road trip mood" sink in. Prussia put in a CD playing "On the Road Again", and we all started singing along and having a great time. And suddenly, Prussia's beloved 2012 Ford Excursion screeched to a halt.

"What's going on?" I asked Prussia, who was now driving (a little easier on the nerves, until that unexpected stop).

"There's a family of chickens crossing the road," he sighed, hitting his forehead on the steering wheel. Gilbird hopped off his head and pecked the horn just hard enough for it to go off, which I found ironically appropriate.

"Run them over!" France said impatiently.

I gasped, shocked. "France!"

" _Nein,_ they're probably Gilbird's family!" Prussia protested, his foot remaining stubbornly on the brake as he watched the chickens slowly passed. I have never seen that many in the same place in my life, _ay caramba!_

"In France they would be _Coq au vin_ by now," France complained.

Of course, I don't think he really meant it and, in any case, we waited for the chickens to pass.

"About time!" I exclaimed. "Let's pray there's no more roadblocks!"

Hopefully I hadn't spoken too soon.

 **(P.S. Translations!** _ **Coq au vin**_ **is a French dish that is chicken braised in red wine, lardons, and mushrooms. Don't ask me what lardons are, lol.** _ **Excellente**_ **is Spanish for "excellent",** _ **Dios mio**_ **is Spanish for "My God",** _ **Verdammt**_ **is German for "Dammit", and** _ **ay caramba**_ **is a Spanish exclamation of frustration and pain that really has no direct translation into English that makes sense, unless some of you out there say "Oh crumps", lol.** **)**


	5. I'm Gonna Knock Your Socks Off

France's POV

"You are smart and attractive. You are a love god. You-"

I picked up my phone and slid the green phone icon, hearing the voice of America at the other end of the line. _"Mon Dieu, Amerique!*_ It's four in the morning, what are you calling me about?"

America sounded snappish and irritated. "What are you doing in my place?" he growled. "I mean, did you have a passport? Not according to my stats!"

"I didn't think a nation needed a passport," I shot back. "And besides, where did you get these 'stats'?"

"Tony," America replied. Tony is his little gray alien friend- yes, an alien. America has an alien. He _would._ "And anyway, since we _are_ nations, you and Prussia and Spain basically came over to my house while I was away."

"Away?" This was the first I'd heard. America never tells me anything.

"Dude, I'm in England right now, it's Iggy's birthday!"

I slapped my forehead. How could I forget? I'd have to get a present for _Angleterre!*_ "Tell him happy birthday for me. And look- if you overlook this whole ordeal, I'll make you all the _beignets*_ you want!"

I could just see America drooling. _Beignets_ are any sane being's weakness. "Overlook what?" he joked. "I've already forgotten, dude!" He hung up and I breathed a sigh of relief, lying back down to get some shuteye before Spain would inevitably wake us up cooking waffles.

҉҉҉

On the road the next day, after some waffles the color of pure onyx, we were driving along when I noticed something in the car behind us (I was in the backseat with Prussia). "Hey, there is a girl waving at me!"

We all looked back. She was about twenty, with long, blonde hair, tan skin, and a smile that read "California born". _Mon Dieu,_ what an angel!

"I think she was looking at _me,_ amigo," Spain protested.

" _Nein*,"_ argued Prussia, "she vas looking at _me."_

There was a pause and then I ordered, "Open the sunroof."

" _Que*?"_ Spain, who was driving, raised a brow in confusion.

"Just do it, _mon ami,_ open the sunroof," I repeated. Spain looked at me strangely but pressed the dashboard command that made the sunroof open. Now I would _really_ catch her attention! I stuck my hand high and waved through the sunroof, hopefully making her swoon or something. After all, as my motivational tape ringtone says, I _am_ a love god.

"Kesesese!" Prussia laughed. "You zink _you_ vill get her attention?" The crazy ex-nation then proceeded to take off his right shoe and stand on his head to wave his sock-covered foot out the sunroof. Who even _thinks_ of such a stunt?

" _Ay-ay-ay,_ do I even want to see?" Spain muttered.

"You really don't," I told him. Prussia continued waving his sock foot at the girl all down the highway.

 **(Translation time!:) Mon Dieu- my God. Angleterre- England. Beignets- fluffy little powdered sugar croissants of heavenly bliss. Nein- no.)**


	6. A Spot of Tea

Prussia's POV

 **(A/N: I am so sorry for taking forever on this chapter! I have barely had a free moment these past few weeks lol. But now I'm back, and so is the Bad Touch Trio, with more crazy adventures! :D )**

"We are not lost," France insisted for the millionth time that day.

We were lost. We were supposed to have entered Florida by now but were somewhere in Georgia- or was it Alabama?- and running out of gas.

"Vell zis is freakin' _perfect,"_ I muttered, watching the needle slowly move to EMPTY. I pulled over at the nearest gas station, which thankfully had a convenience store. I was getting hungry, and so was Gilbird. "Who vants food?" I sighed.

"When do I not," Spain affirmed. France seconded this sentiment.

I really don't need to go into the details of Zhe Awesome Convenience Store because, well, unless you're some hermit in a really secluded country, you'll know what it's like in one. Although, of course, I guess if you were a hermit in a really secluded country then you wouldn't have internet to read this anyway.

So yeah, we walked into the convenience store and Spain was like a little kid in it. Really, it was kind of annoying. "Look at this, amigos, they have eighteen different kinds of Gatorade here!"

"I doubt that," sniffed France.

"Si, they really do!" Spain skipped merrily along as if he was totally oblivious to the fact that we were lost (maybe he was), and proceeded to explore the aisles. _"Dios mio!"_ he exclaimed. "They have so many candies!"

 _Mein gott._ I rubbed my temples. "Spain, have you never been to a convenience store before?"

He actually looked a little hurt. Geez. "I was just trying to bring out the positivity of our situation," he pouted.

I rolled my eyes. "What positivity?"

"I tell you what positivity, this iced tea!" France made an expansive, dramatic gesture toward a tank of sweetened iced tea and one beside it, presumably filled with unsweetened, which of course is a waste of iced tea.

"It's so good, I'm on my second cup!" France declared, surprising me a little. I mean, I've always thought of him as sort of the "I will only drink the finest Cognac" type, but whatever floats his boat I guess.

Unfortunately, France's metaphorical boat was not the only thing that floated that day. Apparently big tanks of iced tea are surprisingly unstable, because he leaned his elbow back against it while talking with Spain and the whole thing just crashed down. I am not even kidding. There was a little creaking sound and next thing you know iced tea was everywhere. A little boy who was in line for a refill started crying. A lady's tiny dog jumped out of her purse and swam around.

Even France didn't know what to say. We all sort of just stood there, avoiding eye contact with anyone else in the store, until the manager walked it and nearly died of shock. "I swear, I barely touched it!" France insisted to the mostly bald, rather squash-shaped man. "I just lightly leaned against it and it all came crashing down!"

"Si," said Spain, nodding, which I guess was supposed to be helpful or something.

"I, uh… I will help clean up." France shuffled his feet, making waves on the surface of what was now an iced tea pond.

The manager had a pulsating blue vein in his temple. "No, you've caused enough trouble. Out!"

We all left, dejected, but neither one of us mad at France because honestly you'd think you could lean on a thing of tea without it falling over. Go figure. We headed back in the car and I was just about to consult Google maps for directions to Florida when my phone started ringing. America's face showed up on the screen. _Oh great._ France had said something about him being angry earlier, but I thought they'd resolved it.

America's words explained it all. "Dude, tell France I'm waiting for my beignets!"

THE END

Based on a true story.


End file.
